


I hold you tight straight through the daylight (I'm right here)

by OnyxSphynx



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Jim, Gen, M/M, Os is the best, Os isn't happy about it, Resurection, Resurrection, Summer of Gotham, Theo Galavan shoots Jim, god/deity stuff, kinda heavy stuff, quick lazarus pit cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: "Because you are my friend, James," the god says simply, rolling the syllables so the word sounds reverent, and James thinks, who am I, undeserving, to question a god?





	I hold you tight straight through the daylight (I'm right here)

**Author's Note:**

> this is for week 5 of Summer of Gotham: Alternate timeline/canon divergence, resurrection, and it looks like I am, once again, back to writing short pieces...oh well, the next part of Veni, vidi, vici should be done and touched up by radpineapple by the end of the month and it'll be around 6k
> 
> And yeah, that's from the [ Troye Sivan cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6KlvbrWt8w&index=19&list=PLYYJwdUBTXsLP0fM95Ehjp3bGcckS7Fsy) ^.^

The first thing he feels when he opens his eyes is black; everywhere is black, like a void, abyssal, and frigid. He tries to move, and fails, limbs frozen, locked in place, and he tries not to panic, despite the dark pressing in from every direction, blanketing his skin,  _seeping under it and into his bones_. If he could, he'd start retching; the feel of the cold tendrils of the void is so clearly  _wrong_  on the most basic level, and something in him, passed down generations, from the dawn of time, screams in protest at its very existence, terrified. 

Everything seems to be slipping away; he's hard-pressed to remember his own name, let alone who he is, something that would normally terrify him, but only garners a sense of apathy. There's something, though, that refuses to lessen its hold on his mind; a face, sharp and angular, green eyes framed by dark, meticulously styled hair; an emotion he can't name rises in him at the thought of the half-familiar face, one he can't name; it's cold but also warm, with lingering traces of sadness and the impression of silvery-blue whisps of  _if only..._ and something deeper, a magma-hot burning sensation, and he thinks- or maybe,  _it_ thinks? It isn't certain anymore, and what it is is a mystery to itself- might be called love, and a need to protect. its thoughts are cut off when a single pinprick of light appears above, a ray of green piercing the veil of darkness.

Instinctively, it tries to fight towards it, and, surprisingly, their-is-his-her limbs move, propelling towards the light. As it gets closer, the darkness transforms, slowly but surely, into a dark green, and finally, it breaks the surface, gasping, the tendrils of the void trying to drag it back down, and it fights harder than ever. Then, a shadow falls over it, and it looks up. It's a- the words seem to fall through a sieve, until there's none left, as one's daydreams are forgotten an instant later.

It tries to collect the words, thoughts, to describe the one above, and comes up lacking; for to describe the being, ethereal, would be as a mortal describing a god- no words could capture their entire being accurately; the only correct word would be awe-worthy, in all aspects. For what could it feel but awe for this being who pulled it from the dark abyss of the void? It is undeserving- that much it knows- and yet, this being, this raven-haired god has chosen to save it anyway. If it knew how, it would cry, overwhelmed by this strange compassion- for it is compassion, it can read it clearly on the god's face, and it stagers it, for it cannot remember anyone having ever looked at it that way; it pulls at  _something_  deep within it, and that feeling, the hot-cold-sad-happy feeling, is back.

"James," the god says, and it feels like being born again; it knows not whether it is James or simply an it, but if this god calls him James, then it can be James for this kind god. "James," the god says, again, softly, "you are safe." And it- James- believes the god.

The god reaches to James, and touches James, and grasps James, pulls James towards the god. The point of contact stings- and why wouldn't it? for this is an angel gripping a damned soul tight and raising it from perdition. The murky green waters recede, ceding James to the god's control.

James tries to raise his head to thank this god, his saviour, but a wave of exhaustion causes his head to lol to the side, eliciting a soft sigh from the god, a sound that twists inside of James, and he resolves to never do anything to make the god sad.

He wonders what happened to him, and, as if reading his thoughts, the god says, "You died, James. Theo Galavan shot you, and you died." There's something dark in that tone, but James thinks it's aimed to this Theo person. Thus, by default, James feels dark towards this Theo as well.

"Why?" James finally croaks out, afraid that he isn't being clear, but the god understands, eyes softening. 

"Because you are my  _friend_ , James," the god says simply, rolling the syllables so the word sounds reverent, and James thinks,  _who am I, undeserving, to question a god?_   


End file.
